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He won’t.

He brought her into this world, knowing the risks. I’m sure he never imagined he’d have to pay for it.

Zaiya steps in front of Bridget. She holds out her hand, and I place my knife in her palm.

The sight of it hits the chamber with a different kind of force. Men shift. Some lean forward. Everyone wants to see if she’ll do it.

Bridget’s voice breaks. “Please, Zaiya.”

Zaiya studies her for a moment. Cold clarity sharpens her expression.

“Bridget Connelly, I pity you.” Her tone is almost gentle.

“Then show mercy,” Bridget begs, tears collecting on her lashes. “Please.”

Zaiya’s mouth stiffens, resisting the empathy that tries to surface, refusing to let it weaken her. It’s what makes her better than the rest of us. She still has compassion left to rein in.

“You married a vile man. You stood beside him while he chased power and pleasure. You watched him hurt people and choose other women over you.”

Bridget shakes her head frantically. “I didn’t know everything.”

Zaiya’s eyes stay cold. “You and your husband lost,” she says. “You know the rules.”

Bridget’s chest heaves. She writhes against the restraints. “Please. Please.”

“I’m not doing this because I hate you,” Zaiya says. “I’m doing it because it’s my duty now.”

Patrick closes his eyes and turns his head.

This is his fault. He doesn’t deserve that grace.

I grab his head and twist it to the side, making him watch.

Zaiya moves. One clean motion. The knife goes into Bridget’s chest, right through her heart, making it quick. A small mercy.

Patrick’s body tenses as he tries to turn away from it. He even makes a pained whine, as if the knife went into him instead. How touching.

Bridget jolts, eyes wide, mouth opening on a sound that doesn’t make it all the way out. Zaiya steps back, refusing to linger over it.

She looks at Bridget’s body with solemn curiosity as life leaves it.

“Look,” I say to Patrick. “This is what you did.”

He tries to squeeze his eyes shut, to focus on anything else, wild and furious.

I let him go.

“Patrick Connelly,” I say. “Your crimes are many, but none so unforgivable as putting your hands on my woman, your Seraph, Zaiya Zapera, and attempting to orchestrate her death.”

Zaiya clenches her teeth around her rage. This is her justice. For Asher. For herself. For every time she was treated like an object to be traded and used.

Patrick swallows hard and blinks away tears gathering in his eyes. Wouldn’t want anyone to think he has a heart.

“You should be thanking me, Edwin. Without me, you never would have met her.”

The urge to hit him moves through my body like a fever. To break something. To make the room hear his teeth crack.

Instead, I turn my head to Zaiya. Her gaze meets mine. Her hand caresses my cheek, and it steadies me more than any prayer could.